


Literally Goldfish

by NobodyOfficial



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Does Redbeard need a mention? Idk, Greg is a goldfish, Kid Mycroft, Kid!Lock, M/M, baby sherlock, goldfish, i don't know what AU that is, insecure!Mycroft, shy!Greg, teen!lock, they're just younger, young Mycroft is kind of chubby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 10:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7931530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NobodyOfficial/pseuds/NobodyOfficial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jealous of Sherlock's relationship with his puppy, Mycroft asks for a cat.. And gets a goldfish. He soon learns to love it, as it helps him through a difficult time in his life, but what happens when Mycroft's all grown up and finds a goldfish of a different kind?</p><p>~</p><p>This is literal shit. I wouldn't read this, I assure you. But it has baby Holmes Bros and lots of fluff and a very shy Mycroft and a very awkward Greg so if you like that go ahead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a literal piece of shit I wrote a long time ago and found recently, so decided to edit. The crappy story line more or less stayed the same but it went from 900 words to about 4,000 so it's fair to say it's better. Sorry for burdening you with this fic, but thought I should do something with it.

The late summer sun glanced of Mycroft's auburn hair as he stumbled down the stairs, avoiding teetering piles of William's books. As he reached the bottom he felt something thin and sharp press against his ankle, before he sprawled across the hall. There was a soft giggling and the muffled sound of socked feet on wood, followed by the skitter of claws. William.

Mycroft turned to find Redbeard's lead had been strung across the bottom of the stairs, waiting to trip him. He sighed. He groaned. He stood up slowly and shook himself, but didn't feel any pain, so continued on his way to the kitchen.

It was warm in the kitchen, and filled with the inviting smell of fresh baking and vanilla. Mycroft pulled a wooden chair out from the kitchen table and clambered on to it, then sat down on the table, swing his chubby legs around to dangle over the edge. From his new vantage point Mycroft could see half a sponge cake sat on the side, as well as a bowl of buttercream and a jar of jam. His mother was busy with a fresh bowl of cake mix and a whisk.

"Myc, sweetie, you can't have any of this," she said as soon as she noticed him.

"Yes mummy, you've already told me that," he sighed, rolling his eyes. "A lot."

"Oh but you're a smart boy, you know it's for the best, don't you?" She cooed.

"Yes, mummy." Mycroft rolled his eyes again. He looked past his mother and out the window, watching as William rolled around in the grass with Redbeard. His shirt was covered in mud and his trousers had a rip in the left knee, but he was laughing so hard he was almost crying. Mycroft wanted to feel really happy for his little brother, but all he felt was left out. He didn't want to roll around in the mud with a dog. But he didn't want to feel so alone, either.

"Mummy... Why can't I have a pet?" Mycroft asked suddenly. Mrs Holmes turned around and set her bowl of cake mix on the table, right beside Mycroft, before turning to look out the window.

"Myc, Redbeard isn't just William's. He's yours too, you know. Maybe if you helped to look after him you'd like him a little better."

Mycroft picked up bowl of cake mix and sat it on his lap, taking out the spoon and licking it. "But I don't want to look after William's smelly dog. I want..." He thought about having his own dog, but decided he didn't really want to put the effort in. A rabbit or a guinea pig would be alright, he guessed, but they had to spend most of their time outside and he didn't really like to be outside. A cat would be quite good. They liked to sleep a lot, and even thought they went outside they did that on their own, and Mycroft could just imagine a sleepy kitten curling up beside him in bed...

"I want a cat," Mycroft said firmly.

"Oh Myc, we can't have a cat. You and William are enough trouble, plus we have a dog. Can't you catch a caterpillar or something, love?" Mrs Holmes urged. Mycroft recoiled at the word 'catch'. He didn't want anything he had to go and get himself.

"What about... A hamster?" He asked, desperate. That could stay in his room. It might smell a bit though, and it would keep him up all night... "No! Never mind! I don't want a hamster!" He thought again. Maybe some kind of reptile? A snake sounded quite promising, maybe he could even get it to eat his brother!

"Can I get a snake?" He grinned.

"Absolutely not," Mrs Holmes sighed, almost at the end of her tether. "You know what Mycroft? How about this? Next week, dad will take you to the pet shop. You can have a fish. Not one of those weird tropical things though, or an albino frog or something. You can get... A goldfish. How's that, Myc? A goldfish?"

Goldfish. Mycroft thought of a goldfish. Big, goggly eyes bulging out from a fat, orange body. Mouth in constant motion, for no reason whatsoever. What could he do with a goldfish?

"Why can't we get-"

"Enough!" Mrs Holmes snapped. "You can have a fish or you can go to your room and study chemistry. You're falling behind on that, even William's better, and he's four!"

Mycroft shrunk in to himself. He didn't like chemistry. He was very good at it, for an eleven-year-old, but he didn't see the point. He didn't like experimenting when he already knew what was going to happen. And even if he didn't already know the outcome surely someone else would be doing the experiment anyway. He could just ask them. It didn't help that his mother was a world renowned chemist and his younger brother had very quickly developed an aptitude for the science.

"I'll go with father next week," Mycroft whispered. He set the bowl back down on the table, then clumsily pushed himself to the floor, almost falling over in the process.

"Go check on William an- Oh Mycroft, did you eat this?" Mrs Holmes held up the now half empty bowl of cake mix, the look on her face saying she'd wring Mycroft's neck if she caught him. So he hurriedly slipped a pair of shoes on, grabbed his bobble hat (the really old one he never left the house without) and and fled out the back door.

Mycroft ran forward a few steps, but stopped when he got to the grass. It was muddy, he didn't want to stand in that. So instead he turned and ran around the patio to the side of the house, where he found William sat with Redbeard. William giggled when he saw him.

"You've been running," he laughed. "Your face is all red. It looks like your hair!"

Mycroft pulled his hat further down on his head. "So what if I have?"

"Mummy's angry..." William whispered suddenly, gazing up at Mycroft with scared blue eyes.

"It's fine William, she's not angry with you," Mycroft smiled. "I ate her cake mix." William laughed again, so Mycroft sat down beside him. "Want to know something interesting?"

"About chemistry?" William beamed, wide eyed with fascination.

"No, not about chemistry," Mycroft grumbled.

William stopped smiling. "Well what is it then?" He frowned.

"I'm getting a goldfish."

Mycroft had never heard William laugh so loud.


	2. Chapter 2

*one week later*

Their car pulled up outside the small pet shop in the village and Mycroft waited patiently as his father unbuckled William and lifted him out the car. "I remember when you were as tiny as William." He smiled nostalgically at his eldest son. "I'm so proud of you, Mycroft. You're growing up so fast." He gently patted the bobble on Mycroft's hat. Mycroft pretended to be annoyed, but really he felt relieved and happy. It wasn't often he got compliments like that from his mother.

The pet shop was thin and long, cages and glass cases lined each wall, with a shelf of pet supplies running down the middle. William ran to the back of the shop the moment they entered, whispering, "Puppies!" very harshly, in order to both not scare the puppies, but show people he was very passionate at the same time.

"I think William lives here now," Mr Holmes smiled, pointing to where William was reaching in to the puppy case to stroke their furry heads. Mycroft giggled. "Come on then, let's take a look at these goldfish."

He lead Mycroft over to two cases near the back of the shop, which Mycroft could barely see in to stood on his tip toes. For a moment he struggled and jumped, but then Mr Holmes picked him up so that he was eye level with the tanks.

"Dad I'm not an infant! Put me down!" Mycroft protested. His dad just hugged him tighter.

"I miss getting to hug my little boy, he's growing up too quickly. You're going to start high school soon. And mum has you working all the time, when do you get to be a little kid?" He moved Mycroft's hat to gently kiss his forehead.

"But I'm not a little kid, dad. William's a little kid. I'm a big brother so I have to act like one. I have to know everything, so that when William asks me a question I'll know the answer." Mycroft was terrified that one day William would ask him something he didn't know, and then he'd have to admit that he wasn't omniscient.

"Hey, that's my job," Mr Holmes smiled softly. "How about the next time William asks you something you send him to me, and then you can spend some time doing what you want. Like reading. You still like that, right?" Mycroft nodded eagerly.

He turned back to the fish tank and pressed his face against the glass. The water was clear and suddenly the goldfish didn't look so bad. They looked quite nice, actually. Their scales shimmered in the light and their eyes didn't look dull, but a nice silver colour, sort of like Mycroft's. I'm not a goldfish, he quickly reminded himself.

"What about these ones? They're pretty." Mr Holmes was pointing to the other tank, which was filled with a different type of goldfish, these ones with huge, bulging eyes, but very pretty, long tails. Mycroft recoiled a little.

"I don't want a 'pretty' goldfish," he said quickly. "I want a smart one." He leaned in close to the tank again, then suddenly jumped back as fish bashed it's nose against the glass. He giggled and leaned in again, so the fish smashed itself back against the case. "This one's funny," he smiled, pointing it out to his father. As soon as his finger touched the glass the goldfish made an insane attempt to eat it. Mycroft burst in to a fit of giggles again.

Mr Holmes gently kissed his son on the cheek, then set him down on the floor. He arranged for the goldfish to be places in a small plastic bag until they got home, then set about finding it some suitable accommodation. This left Mycroft holding the bag.

He peered at the fish and laughed as it swam in circles, coming to terms with its temporary home. It really was quite a pretty fish; small and speedy, a shimmering bright orange colour. And it was either the stupidest fish out there or unbelievably smart. Mycroft found that he didn't really mind.

William sauntered up behind his brother. "Is that your fish?"

"Yes." Mycroft smiled proudly.

"What's it called?"

Mycroft looked at the fish. He couldn't tell whether it was a girl or a boy, but he didn't really want to give it one of those silly pet names like 'goldy' or 'sparkles'. So he decided it would be a boy. "He's called Gregory."

"How'd you know it's a boy?" William pressed.

Mycroft panicked and looked once again at the fish. He really didn't know. Then he remembered what his dad had said earlier. "Da-ad!" He wailed. "William has something to ask you!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just thought I should add here that this was grammar checked a long time ago, sorry for any mistakes.

*one month later*

As soon as his mother stopped the car Mycroft fled. Straight in to the house. Shoes off. Discarded on the floor, not neatly against the wall like he usually left them. Blazer thrown halfway down the stairs. Tie left on the landing. Bedroom door slammed.

Mycroft hated school. He'd been there one day and already he hated it with everything he had. It wasn't even like he was learning; he knew everything they taught anyway. The people were mean, the teachers were stupid, and the food wasn't even good. He sat down beside Gregory's fish tank.

"Hello Gregory," he mumbled softly. "You're so lucky you don't go to school. It's awful." Mycroft tried to imagine Gregory as a person, as his friend. He wasn't a very big fish, so Mycroft supposed he'd be quite short. But then again, everyone was quite short to Mycroft. He imagined he'd be quite skinny too, but he did a lot of swimming and quite liked to bash stuff, so maybe he'd have a lot of muscle. And he wouldn't have ginger hair, because even though he was a nice orange colour that was normal for a goldfish, so he'd probably have brown hair. He sounded nice, Mycroft thought. Much, much nicer than everyone he'd met today.

"Nobody wants to be friends with me, Gregory," Mycroft whispered, leaning his head against the tank. "They think I'm weird. I am." He forced himself up again and stood in front of the mirror, pulling off his hat. Thick, ginger curls tumbled out. "Ok, so I need a hair cut," Mycroft admitted to his pet. "And maybe some hair dye, too. Can't really get rid of freckles, can you? I'll have to-" he undid the top two buttons on his shirt, "make my clothes a little rougher. Maybe I won't shine my shoes tonight. And I suppose I can chase William around the garden a bit, then I'll be as thin as him. I suppose I shouldn't talk in class, either."

Mycroft slumped against the wall again, watching Gregory swim around his bowl. "That's going to take a long time," he sighed sadly. "I just want a friend now." Mycroft remembered the pretty boy he'd been sat next to in form, who he'd stared at a bit. They boy had then come to talk to Mycroft at break, which he found quite exciting, but then he'd hit him and called him gay. Mycroft didn't know what he'd done wrong, but he quickly moved himself to his own desk and didn't talk to anyone else all day. No one talked to him either. At least not to be nice. Mycroft burst in to tears.

He cried for several minutes, chest aching with physical pain, until there was a soft knock at the door and his father stepped in, holding his blazer and tie. As soon as he saw Mycroft crying he dropped them on the floor and scooped his little boy up, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"It was that bad, huh?" He whispered in to Mycroft's hair.

"I hate it! I'm never, ever going back!" Mycroft yelled.

"I know, love, I know. But this was your first ever day at school. Everyone cries on their first day at school. You'll have to give it another go," Mr Holmes said gently.

"William didn't cry," Mycroft scowled. He hated feeling like a small child while William was downstairs, continuing to tell their mother how great his day had been. He hadn't really made any friends either, but he'd thought it was great fun all the same.

"Yeah, but we all know William's a little crazy." He wiped the tears off Mycroft's face. "Want to tell me what happened?"

"Nope."

"Have you told Gregory?" Everyone knew that Mycroft told his goldfish everything. It was like his secret diary.

"Yes, but he didn't really listen," Mycroft smiled. He glanced over at the fish tank, where Gregory seemed to be watching him worriedly. Mycroft was happy he had such a smart fish.

"You know, I think he hears everything you say."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aah. I forgot how lamely this chapter ended, sorry!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter actually contains one real life, human Gregory Lestrade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I really did avoids Greg in this story, sorry about that! But he's here now to make Mycroft blush and feel awkward. Older Sherlock also makes an appearance, and he's barely in it but he's my favourite ;)

*sixteen years later*

Mycroft reached for the handle on the police station door, numb fingers wrapping around cold metal. He shivered and urged himself to pull open the door, wrists almost stiff with the cold. It was a bitter winter's day, just past two o'clock in the morning. Mycroft's whole body still felt limp with sleep.

Just as he summoned the strength to open the door, someone on the other side walked hurriedly in to the glass, stumbling backward and clutching his head. Mycroft seemed to snap awake suddenly and hauled the door open, stepping inside. The heat was so sudden and intense he felt like he was thawing out.

The now slightly dazed young officer was squinting up at Mycroft and shaking his head. He had thick, dark brown hair and tanned skin and gorgeous chocolate coloured eyes. He was just slightly shorter than Mycroft, and skinny but well muscled. "Sorry, sorry," he mumbled, over and over.

"You're like a goldfish," Mycroft giggled in reply, then quickly covered his mouth. He wasn't suppose to say things like that out loud. "It's just, I had this goldfish when I was young, and he liked to smash against translucent materials. Like you and the door..."

The officer smiled. "Yeah, I guess. Look, I'd love to help you, whatever you're here for, but I'm in a super panic right now. You haven't seen a guy, maybe a thirty, out front have you? Really big guy, red hair, probably carrying an..." He looked down at Mycroft's hands, a terrified look of realisation slowly spreading across his face. "An... An... An um-umbrella," he finished. "Shit, knew I shouldn't have listened to Sherlock. You aren't, by any chance, Mycroft Holmes?"

Mycroft hoisted his umbrella in to the air. "Well, I seem to be carrying an umbrella, my hair is some shade of auburn and both my heigh and my weight can be described as anything but 'small'. So yes, I'm Mycroft Holmes. And you are-" he held his hand out.

"So, so sorry," the sighed, hiding his face in his hands. "Sherlock said you'd come to pick him up, and he was describing you and that's what he said, and I'm so sorry. We'll work on that description when we get your brother, but I am so sorry, I didn't mean to be rude."

Mycroft just allowed him to continue before saying, "Apologies, but I was asking your name."

The officer seemed to get flustered all over again. "God, sorry! Sorry! I- yes, sorry! Umm... Lestrade. Greg Lestrade." He finally shook Mycroft's hand. Greg's hand felt warm against Mycroft's still freezing one and he didn't want to let go.

"I'll get you some coffee, if you like," Greg offered. "This is an ungodly hour to be up at, and you're freezing."

Mycroft blew gently on his hands, offering momentary warmth to his freezing body. "That would be appreciated, thank you Officer Lestrade."

"Greg's good, really." He disappeared in to a small office room, then stuck his head out again and beckoned for Mycroft to follow him in. He did, and this room was even warmer than the corridor. He relaxed a little, wishing he could soak up the heat.

Mycroft wondered if Greg was short for Gregory. He hoped it was, because he liked this man. A good few minutes of conversation and he hadn't yet been mocked for his pronunciation. Or his weight. Or the fact that he had an umbrella at two in the morning when he hadn't even grabbed a coat.

"Sherlock never told me how cute his brother is," Greg said suddenly, smiling at Mycroft. Mycroft quickly turned around, just to make sure there wasn't anyone else nearby who could be mistaken for Sherlock's brother. Once he was certain they were alone he turned back to Greg, a very confused look on his face. "I am talking about you," he giggled.

"I don't remember 'cute' featuring in the earlier description."

"I know, that's what I said. Sherlock also didn't tell me his brother was shy." Greg raised an eyebrow.

"I am not shy. That's ridiculous! I deal with people every day in my line of work, I don't have time to be shy!" Lies. Mycroft thought he would blush if Greg so much as looked at him.

"Ok," Greg chuckled. He passed Mycroft a cup of coffee and allowed him a few moments to add sugar, before leading back down the corridor.

"Sherlock's fine. He's not on anything, I just found him wandering around in the dark. I thought it would be better to take him in, rather than let him do anything. I've heard he has a history." Mycroft shivered at the memory of his brother's pale face, lifeless body, bloodless lips. It made him feel colder than any winter's night wind.

As they walked, Greg turned around and started to walk backwards. "I like your suit," he beamed. Mycroft self-consciously tried to pull his suit jacket tighter, then remembered that it didn't even fasten. That wasn't helpful.

"I like your hair. It looks so much better than when Sherlock described it." Mycroft wished he was wearing his hat now. No one had ever really paid much attention to his hair before. In fact, no one had ever really paid much attention to him; and although it felt very nice to have this beautiful man compliment him, Mycroft wished he could actually give him something to compliment.

Suddenly Greg tripped on the Lino floor and sprawled backwards. Mycroft hurried to help him up. "I'm fine," he chuckled good-naturedly, accepting Mycroft's hand. They stood, face to face, very close. Mycroft could feel Greg's warm breath against his face. His lips looked nice.

"Ok! My brother," Mycroft said hurriedly. "This way?" He pointed down a corridor and took off before Greg could reply.

"Umm, no. The other one," Greg giggled. Mycroft blushed madly, he hated to be wrong, and followed Greg the other way.

Soon they reached a row of overnight cells, and Mycroft panicked, thinking they'd been treating his brother badly. But instead he saw him curled up on a bed, a thick blanket covering him and a mug of half drunk tea on the floor. The gate was unlocked too. "You did this?" He asked Greg.

"Yeah. Wouldn't be fair to just throw him in a cell, would it? He's not done anything." Mycroft was filled with a sudden and heartwarming surge of appreciation for this man. He wanted to hug him very tightly, but thought that would be inappropriate. Plus, he felt kind of... Soft, underneath the sharp lines of his suit, and he didn't want Greg to feel that.

"Wanna let him sleep?" Greg offered.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, he's out. So I was thinking, if you're not busy now, which you shouldn't be, you could wait with me, here, and then take him home in the morning. Only, only if you want. I'll just wake him up if you like." Greg blushed and shrugged awkwardly, although Mycroft could deduce that, for some reason, he really wanted him to stay.

"I just... Just don't want you to go yet. I wanted to talk to you. I like you," Greg admitted eventually. Mycroft's stomach felt like a whirlwind of butterflies, and he gripped his waist harshly to get it to stop.

"I've never had a friend before," Mycroft whispered, looking hopefully at Greg. He thought he didn't need friends, but he'd be kicking himself if he left without getting to know Greg first.

"Oh, well, I was thinking a little more, you know? Like like." Greg blushed.

"You mean Eros?" Mycroft asked doubtfully. It was a Greek word for a sexual, passionate sort of love. He didn't believe anyone could feel that way about him.

"I don't know what that is, but I'll take you on a date, if you want," Greg offered. He was staring at Mycroft with a sweet, shy smile, and there was no way Mycroft could say no. He didn't know whether Greg was the stupidest person out there or unbelievably smart to want to date him, but Mycroft found that he didn't really mind.

"I'd love that."

~

As he heard the footsteps receding Sherlock slowly cracked one eye open. He smirked. He stretched, rolled over, then pulled a book from his back pocket. If it all worked out as Sherlock had planned, it was going to be a long night. "Goldfish acquired," he muttered softly to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand it's over. First finished story on the archive, success! Technically it was finished months ago, but I'll ignore that fact. Hope it wasn't too bad, thank you so much for reading :3

**Author's Note:**

> Hope that wasn't too bad, thank you so much for reading, if you want to find the older, shitter version then it's somewhere (I dunno where) on my tumblr, @its-not-sher-locky-day (I KNOW IT'S AWFUL I KNOOOOW!) and if not I post Mystrade whenever I find it/think it up, so there's that too. 
> 
> Thanks a lot for reading ;)


End file.
